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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22688617">The Art of Atonement</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/R_S_B/pseuds/R_S_B'>R_S_B</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sins of the Father [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek: Voyager</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Consequences, F/M, Infidelity, Owen Paris/Kathryn Janeway (referenced), also Owen is not being a great father right now</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 09:55:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,679</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22688617</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/R_S_B/pseuds/R_S_B</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A relationship isn't an equation to be solved; there aren't instructions, or even rules. It's not a science, but it might be an art. And to fix his relationship after he's been unfaithful, Owen has to learn to give up control.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Owen Paris/Julia Paris, Owen Paris/Owen Paris' Wife</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sins of the Father [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/803841</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>It's been LITERALLY since 2017 since I have updated this series, so, if you are willing, I suggest rereading Parts 1 and 2 of Sins of the Father, Cold Comfort and Bonds of Brotherhood, before you read this. If you choose not to, I think everything should make sense, but maybe not have the same level of emotional investment.</p>
<p>ALSO, all the thanks go to Helen8462, who not only gave helpful feedback/edits, but whose encouragement and enthusiasm for this story and for Owen and Julia (and Kathryn) helped me stick with it and get it finished after all this time. Thank you, Helen.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> January 21, 2374 </em>
</p>
<p>There was a moan, followed by laughter, and Owen smiled down at his wife. </p>
<p>Julia’s smile was brighter than the sunrise coming up over the horizon, lines crinkling around her eyes and mouth. “That tickles,” she giggled. </p>
<p>“Sorry,” he grunted, shifting his hand from her waist to slide up her thigh. He resettled himself between her legs and she pulled his head down closer, fingers ruffling short grey hair and kissing him gently as his thrusts resumed. Then Julia shifted her hips and he slipped deeper into her and they groaned in unison. </p>
<p>“<em>Yes… </em> “ she sighed. </p>
<p>He groaned again, and her fingers dug into his shoulders. Owen thrust harder. Then the tension in his abdomen exploded and he squeezed his eyes tight. Instinctively, he thrust deep into Julia, then collapsed, face buried in her neck. </p>
<p>Julia’s arms tightened around him for a moment, then she pushed him off and Owen rolled easily, settling down next to his wife with a sigh. Julia scooted against him, pressing her back to him. </p>
<p>“Hold me?”</p>
<p>Owen rolled back onto his side and curled around her, thighs pressed up against hers, fingers gently caressing her hip. Julia’s hand moved between her legs and in no time, she was quivering in his arms, her breathing ragged. Owen would have liked to help more with this part, but there wasn’t much time and it would be faster this way; his first meeting of the day was in only forty-five minutes, and Julia’s office hours started shortly after. </p>
<p>Julia whimpered and Owen pressed kisses against her neck. Her arm shook and she groaned, and he could imagine the way she was biting her lip as she got close without having to see it. Nearly forty years together would do that. Then she cried out and her arm stilled and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. </p>
<p>Once she had caught her breath, she pressed her head back against his shoulder. “That was nice.”</p>
<p>“Mmmhmm,” Owen agreed. He pressed one last kiss against her shoulder, then she stood up. Julia grabbed her robe from the hook on the wall and pulled it on, belting it tightly around her waist. </p>
<p>“When are you off today?”</p>
<p>Owen rolled onto his back and thought for a minute. “Well, my last meeting is only scheduled until five, but Santos is a windbag, so it will probably go over. But I should definitely be home in time for dinner.” </p>
<p>Julia smiled at him. “Good. Kathleen and Hanna will be here with the kids around six-thirty.”</p>
<p>Owen sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Perfect. I’ll make sure I’m home.” He stood up and headed for the bathroom. “Do you need the shower?”</p>
<p>“You can go first.” Owen was halfway through the door to the bathroom when the bedroom terminal started ringing. He half-turned, but Julia waved him on. “Go ahead, Owen, I’ll get it.” </p>
<p>He had barely closed the door when she was yelling for him. “Owen! It’s for you! It's Starfleet!”</p>
<p>With a sigh, Owen hurriedly pulled an undershirt and underwear on and returned to the bedroom. He grabbed his robe off the back of the door and pulled that on too. As he approached, Julia sitting at the terminal, and he saw his assistant, Fernand Lamar, on the console screen. Julia stood up to let him have the seat. Owen sat down and Julia gave his shoulder a squeeze as she walked behind him. </p>
<p>Lamar looked nervous. “Actually,” he piped up, “you might want to stay for this, Mrs. Paris.”</p>
<p>Julia paused and Owen’s stomach tightened. Something was wrong, but Owen couldn’t imagine what it could possibly be.. He sat down in front of the console and Julia waited behind his shoulder. </p>
<p>“Sir,” Lamar began, “I… we… Starfleet Command just got word. They made contact with <em> Voyager </em>.” He licked his lips. “Sir… your son is alive.” </p>
<p>Owen couldn't breathe. </p>
<p>Julia screamed. </p>
<p>“W-what?” Owen blinked. </p>
<p>Lamar started to try to explain the situation, but Owen struggled to follow the details. It was clear they were far away, but that was as much as he could absorb. All he could think about was that they were alive. </p>
<p><em> Tom was alive</em>. </p>
<p>Julia’s hand clenched on his shoulder and she staggered to her knees and began to sob. </p>
<p>Owen struggled to find his voice. “Thank you, Ensign.”</p>
<p>Lamar nodded. “I canceled all your meetings today. Command will be meeting in two hours to discuss these developments.” He paused. “If you are able to make it.”</p>
<p>Owen felt tears coming to his eyes, but he tried to keep them at bay. He nodded at Lamar. “I’ll be there,” he assured him. Before anyone could say anything further, Owen terminated the communication. Julia began to grab at Owen and he spun the chair around. She threw herself into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably into his chest. Owen’s chest heaved, breath coming in abrupt, ragged bursts. He clung to Julia, finally letting the tears leak from his eyes. </p>
<p>“He’s alive,” she murmured over and over.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> March, 2359 </em>
</p><p>Owen Paris wasn't a man who made mistakes. It was something he took great pride in. He had a reputation for demanding perfection from his students and his subordinates, but without a doubt the person he expected the most from was himself. </p><p>Owen Paris wasn’t a man who made mistakes. Until, of course, he did. </p><p>When it came time to tell Julia about the affair with Kathryn, it had seemed clear enough in his mind: be honest about what happened and apologize sincerely and then Julia would forgive him. </p><p>That is not how it happened. </p><p>She didn’t say anything until he was finished, listening calmly to his words of betrayal. </p><p>
  <em> It was an accident.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I didn’t mean for it to happen.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It will never happen again. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I’m sorry. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I’m sorry. </em>
</p><p><em> I’m sorry. </em> <em><br/></em><br/>Julia took a breath and opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Her mouth worked silently for a moment before she seemed to give up, squeezing her eyes shut and shaking her head. Standing up suddenly, she turned away from him and walked across the room, where she began to rearrange the items on the dresser. </p><p>“Just-- I-- “ She swallowed and tried to start again. “I just-- I need some time. Alone. Please just-- just go.” </p><p>Owen stood up and began to move towards her. “Julia, I’m so sorry, you know I would do anything to go back--”</p><p>“I heard you the first time,” she replied coldly. Owen stopped in his tracks and she turned just enough to look at him. She was blinking rapidly. </p><p>“Julia, please--”</p><p>She winced and held up a hand. “I can’t. I can’t-- can’t <em> look </em> at you right now. I just need some time. To think.”</p><p>Owen didn’t know what to do. Finally, he took a shuddering breath and nodded. “Okay. Okay. Whatever you need.” </p><p>Julia nodded shortly and turned away again. Owen waited for a moment to see if she would say anything else, but she didn’t. He turned slowly towards the bedroom door and left the room, suddenly feeling like he had left his body and someone else was controlling it from a distance. He didn’t know where else to go, so he went to his office and tried to work. After responding to a few messages, he realized he couldn’t even remember what any of them had said or how he had responded, so he stopped. </p><p>After that he tried to read, pulling his PADD out and opening up a novel that Julia had recommended months ago, but he couldn’t focus, and it just made him think of his wife. Turning off the PADD and standing up, he began to pace. He wanted to let Julia make the next step. Whatever it was she needed, he would give her. And then she would forgive him. </p><p>So he waited. </p><p>And waited. </p><p>The minutes crawled by with the agony of purgatory. He kept thinking <em> this was it </em>, this was the moment she’d come in and tell him she was ready. For what, he wasn’t sure. To talk about it? To forgive him? He wasn’t sure what other options there were. But she didn’t come. </p><p>It was finally bedtime, and still, she didn’t come. </p><p>Resolving himself, he left the office and headed back to their bedroom. Maybe she had fallen asleep. He would just check on her. But as he approached the bedroom, he heard her, crying softly. He turned the old doorknob quietly, hesitantly. </p><p>“Julia?” he whispered, peering into their bedroom. </p><p>She was half-dressed, curled around a pillow in the middle of their mattress. Her cheeks were wet and splotchy and she sobbed into a pillow. His heart hurt to see her like that, and he moved towards her automatically. </p><p>Julia’s head popped up as he entered and she shook her head, disheveled curls flying in all directions. “Dammit, Owen! Just-- just leave me alone!” Owen froze. “Go!” she cried, finally startling him into moving. </p><p>Back in the hallway, he leaned heavily against the closed door. He could still hear Julia crying inside, louder now than before. Owen fought the tears coming to his own eyes. When he felt reasonably assured he wasn’t going to start crying, he did the only thing he could think to do. He pulled a spare blanket and pillow out of the linen closet and made himself comfortable on the couch.</p><hr/><p>Julia woke up to a pounding headache. Groaning, she rolled onto her back and pushed her hair out of her eyes. She shook her head, trying to clear the fog of sleep, and rolled the rest of the way over, reaching automatically for her husband. But Owen wasn’t there. </p><p>For a moment, she smiled. Owen would finally be back soon. She’d missed him so much during this last mission, it would be so nice to have some time together again--</p><p>Then it came back. It hit her like an elephant on her chest, and she struggled to breathe. Her chest shuddered as she forced air in and out of her lungs. <em> Oh god, Owen, no</em>… </p><p>She felt sick, lightheaded, and for a moment, all she could do was sob. Then the room began to spin and she realized that she actually felt <em> sick </em>, and she ran to the bathroom, barely making it in time to vomit into the toilet. </p><p>It was almost impossible to accept. She’d trusted him implicitly; he’d never once in their twenty-three years of marriage given her reason to do otherwise. It was <em> unfathomable</em>. Owen Paris was a good, honest man who would never <em> ever </em> hurt her. </p><p>She spat into the toilet and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Standing up, she moved to the sink, but her legs were wobbly and unstable and she moved slowly. She put her mouth under the facet. Rinsed out her mouth. Stared blankly at her reflection.</p><p>She’s been replaying every conversation from the last few months over and over again in her head, looking for a look, a word, a hint she had missed, a sign that something was wrong. Every time she’d called and he hadn’t answered haunted her. Had he actually been working, or had he been with someone else? She didn’t know anymore. </p><p>Twenty three years of trust, gone in a heartbeat. </p><p>Morbidly, she imagined Owen and this other woman together in bed. In <em> their </em> bed. She squeezed her eyes closed and placed her hands on the edge of the sink. The tears began to fall again and she tried to stifle the sobs, but she wasn’t very successful. Then she felt the bile in her throat again and she ran back to the toilet to empty what little was left in her stomach.</p><hr/><p>“Dad?”</p><p>Owen grunted and blinked blearily, rubbing at his eyes and turning towards the pressure on his shoulder. </p><p>“What are you doing out here, Dad?”</p><p>Owen blinked in surprise at his son’s knee nudging his shoulder. Looking up, he saw Tom standing over him. <em> Great. </em> Great<em>. Not only did you sleep on the couch last night, but Tom knows. Great. </em> </p><p>“I… nothing. I must have gotten tired working and just fell asleep.”</p><p>Tom looked at him skeptically, no doubt noticing the blanket and pillow, but he didn’t call him on it. “Okay... Well, I’m going to school. I’ll see you later.”</p><p>Owen nodded. “Okay. See you tonight.”</p><p>Tom nodded and left, shrugging his bag over a shoulder and disappearing through the doorway.  Owen rubbed his hands over his face, sitting up slowly, and finally coming to rest his elbows on his knees. He wondered if it was safe to go back to the bedroom to shower,  but before he could reach a decision, Julia entered the kitchen. She ignored his presence as she made coffee and Owen watched quietly.</p><p>When the coffee was ready, she sat down next to him. She didn’t offer him any. </p><p>Owen spoke first. “I… I don’t know what to say, Julia. Whatever I need to do to fix this, just tell me. I’ll do anything.”</p><p>Julia looked up at him, green eyes blinking sadly at him. “I don’t know if you can.” </p><p>Owen’s stomach dropped through the floor. “No… no, you can’t just <em> give up </em> on this. Don’t give up on <em> me</em>. I can fix this, <em> please-- </em> ” There <em> had </em> to be a way, he <em> had </em> to fix things -- his wife, his family, his life -- everything that mattered hinged on this. There was always an answer, he just had to find it… </p><p>Julia took a breath, and Owen stopped, desperate for something, for <em> anything,</em> for a hint, a glimpse that this would all work out okay. “I don’t know how. How--” She licked her lips and frowned down at her coffee cup. “How am I supposed to just accept this and move on? I feel like everything is upside down. I don’t even know you anymore. I don’t know <em> anything</em>. How could you <em> do </em> this?” she bit out, voice suddenly raising. “I just-- I don’t know.” They both fell quiet for a few moments, then Julia finally continued. “You know the worst thing, Owen?” He shook his head, hesitantly. “I know this happens. In Starfleet. I’ve <em> seen </em> it happen. You’re on a ship for long periods of time, so disconnected from the rest of the universe. You’re in tight quarters with a small group of people. Things happen. I know a lot of people who never settled down because of how rough it could be on relationships. Others have specific arrangements, <em> open </em> relationships. Flexible relationships. And I’ve also seen a lot of relationships and marriages fail. They couldn’t take the stress. Someone… “ She took a shuddering breath, unable to finish the thought. She didn’t need to. When she looked up at Owen, his stomach twisted into knots. “But I never worried. I trusted you completely. You’d never do that. You were different. But I was wrong. And… <em> here’s </em> the thing that’s the worst. It kept happening. You didn't actually make <em> one </em> mistake. You made a mistake, and instead of fixing it, of admitting it, <em> anything</em>, you kept going back to her. You <em> lied </em> to me. For how long? <em> Months</em>?” Tears leaked out of her eyes and she shook her head. “I don't know who you are anymore.”</p><p>Owen choked out a sob, and reached for her. “I’m so sorry, I am. I want to fix this, please!”</p><p>Julia pulled out of his reach and he quickly retracted his hand. “I believe you when you say that.” She snorted derisively. “I mean, maybe I shouldn’t. But I do. I just,” she paused and shook her head, “don’t know if it’s enough.” She took a sip of coffee then looked back up at Owen. “Does Starfleet know?” Owen’s mouth fell open but nothing came out. “She… it was a member of your crew, right?”</p><p>Owen nodded and Julia began to blink rapidly. </p><p>She took another breath and looked away from him. “I um… I don’t know how to deal with this yet. But… I don’t think I can do it with you here.”</p><p>Owen froze, stomach plunging through the floor. “Are you kicking me out?”</p><p>Julia looked at him, pain evident on her face. “Yes. I am. Every time I look at you, I want to kick and scream and <em> cry </em> and… “ Julia started to tear up again. “I just need to figure this out on my own.” </p><p>“Julia… “ He reached for her again, and this time she didn’t pull away. He stroked the side of her face, thumb brushing away her tears. “I love you. I… “ Owen swallowed painfully. “I’ve never -- <em>never </em>-- loved anyone like I love you.” </p><p>Julia smiled sadly and clasped a hand over Owen’s. “I want to believe that. I <em> want </em> to, Owen. I do. I <em> want </em> to be okay. I want things… ” She shook her head. “I want to be able to forgive you. But I don't know if I can. I need to figure things out myself. I need space for that.”</p><p>“But… “ Owen felt his chest tighten as the panic began to set in. “You <em> can’t -- </em> I <em> need </em> you, Julia. You were <em> right</em>. Before the mission, when you said I wasn’t ready. You were <em> right</em>. I was struggling. I am struggling, and I… I really need your support right now.”</p><p>Julia set down her cup and began to cry, face in her hands. “I’m sorry, Owen. I’m so sorry. But I can’t be the person to support you right now.” Owen dropped his hand and Julia stared down at her own hands, now twisting in her lap. When she finally looked up at Owen, it was sudden, realization dawning in her eyes. “It was <em> her</em>, wasn’t it?”</p><p>“I… “ Owen stammered. </p><p>“Kathryn,” she said, voice suddenly hard. “It was <em> Kathryn</em>.” Her mouth moved like there was something disgusting on her tongue. Julia stood up and began to pace. “ <em> Fuck</em>, Owen. She's practically a child!” She rounded on him. Her earlier sadness was replaced by anger and her voice rose quickly. “Was <em> she </em> there for you when I wasn’t? I <em> would </em> have been there for you, Owen! If you’d have let me in!” </p><p>The shame burned deep in Owen’s gut and he had to look away.  “I’m so sorry, Julia. I just wanted to protect you--”</p><p>“Protect me?” she sneered. “I don’t need your protection, Owen. I need my husband!”</p><p>Owen stood and moved towards her, hands upturned in supplication. “I’m sorry, Julia. I’m sorry! I know I was wrong. Please!”</p><p>Julia scoffed and continued pacing. “I don't know you anymore, Owen. I don't.” </p><p>Owen sat back down heavily. For the first time, he began to believe that things were actually over. His chest was tight and he felt dizzy. Tears began to fill his eyes, but they didn’t fall. </p><p>Julia finally stopped pacing, pausing a few steps from Owen. “You can take a little time. Whatever you need to find somewhere to go and pack some things. But I need you gone today.” She sighed and began to walk away. “I’ll tell Tom that work came up. He’ll believe it.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Julia kicked him out, he hadn’t had anywhere to go. He’d actually been offered a job at Utopia Planetia several months before, but they’d decided he should turn it down, since it would mean moving to Mars for at least six months. But now, it seemed like a convenient cover for the separation they were keeping under wraps. They hadn’t even told Tom. Owen didn’t see any good that would come from telling their son what had happened. Better to just fix it and move on as though nothing had happened. So he’d taken the job. But a transfer would take time, and Julia had made it clear she wanted him out of the house. <em> Now</em>. </p><p>There were the obvious choices. Starfleet would provide housing if he requested it. But that came with risks. He didn’t want the questions that would come if people at Starfleet realized he wasn’t living at home. Julia knew too many people in Starfleet. And even worse, his in-laws knew everyone. He could find a hotel. And for a few days he did, while he got the transfer arranged and wrapped up some loose ends. But that came with risk too. Not as much as Starfleet housing did, but he was terrified that someone would find out. </p><p>So once things were wrapped up, he went to the only place he could think of. </p><p>Readjusting the bag on his shoulder, he stepped off the transport in Aberystwyth. </p><p>Owen headed towards his father’s house with apprehension. He hadn’t bothered to message Tomos before he’d left. It hadn’t seemed like giving the man notice would really help anything. But now that Owen was there, he worried about how his father might respond. Things had never been <em> bad </em> between them, exactly. But they had never been easy either. And it had been years since they’d seen one another. </p><p>Luckily, it wasn’t far to the house, and Owen didn’t have much time to overanalyze the situation in his head. In no time, he was standing at the door, so he rang the chime and hoped for the best. </p><p>Tomos opened the door and stared at his son in wide mouthed surprise. He’d aged since the last time Owen had seen him. He’d gone completely gray and the lines in his face were deeper, but he still looked healthy and vibrant. Then he smiled and Owen felt a surge of relief. “Owen! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”</p><p>“Sorry,” he offered apologetically. “It was kind of a last minute decision.”</p><p>Tomos looked behind Owen. “Are Julia and kids here too? I bet Tom is nearly as tall as you by now.”</p><p>Owen chuckled. “Taller.” Then he cleared his throat. “But no, it’s… just me this time. Can I-- can I come in?”</p><p>He could see his father’s forehead creasing in confusion at his son’s unusual arrival, but he waved him inside. “Of course.”</p><p>Owen set his bag down by the old, worn sofa while his father began to putter around the kitchen. “Have you eaten? I have some leftovers… “</p><p>“No, I’m fine. I caught a meal on the transport.” </p><p>Tomos looked at him from behind the door of the refrigerator. “Okay, then how about a beer?”</p><p>Owen gave a small smile. “I have to say, that sounds pretty good right now.” </p><p>Tomos moved into the living room, two bottles in hand. He passed one to Owen and sat down across from him. “What happened, Owen?”</p><p>Owen looked away from his father’s gaze and took a swig of beer, hiding his discomfort over realizing how transparent he had been. “I’m not quite sure where to start. It’s…  kind of a long story.” </p><p>Tomos chuckled lightly. “Well, I’ve got all night, son.” </p><p>Owen took a deep breath and leaned forward, beer dangling between his knees. “Julia… well.” He started again, “I’m transferring to Utopia Planetia. Just… temporarily. And I need somewhere to stay. Until the transfer goes through.”  </p><p>Tomos’ mouth fell open and Owen averted his eyes, taking a swig of beer. </p><p>“Why aren’t you staying with Julia?” Tomos asked, his tone a mix of concern and accusation. </p><p>“It’s just temporary,” Owen insisted. </p><p>“She kicked you out.” It wasn’t a question. The disappointment in his father’s voice made Owen twitchy. He rolled his shoulders and rubbed at his neck. </p><p>“<em>No</em>,” he insisted quickly, trying to ignore the knots forming in his stomach. “It’s just... for a little while. We’re going to work things out, and when I’m done with this assignment… things should be resolved by then.” </p><p>“What things? What did you do?”</p><p>Owen balked. “Why do you assume things are my fault?” he shot back defensively. </p><p>Tomos rubbed his hands over his face. “Now I <em> know </em> it’s your fault… “ he muttered under his breath. </p><p>Owen tried to push down the defensiveness and anger. <em> You messed up. You deserve this</em>. He took a deep breath, staring at the beer in his hands. “I um… Look. I… “ Even after multiple long, heated arguments with Julia, it was still so hard to say aloud. He tried again. “I was on a mission.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, his chest began to feel tight. <em> No, can’t start there. Can’t. </em> “Um, I… we… “ Owen set the beer down on the floor and ran his hands through his hair nervously. “I cheated on Julia,” he whispered. </p><p>Tomos’ mouth fell open. “No.”</p><p>Owen buried his face in his hands. He was quiet for a long time. “Yes,” he whispered. </p><p>Tomos gaped, unable to find words. Finally he found his voice. “What the hell were you thinking?” he demanded. </p><p>Owen’s head snapped up. “I'm not looking for your approval! I know what a big mistake this was.”</p><p>“I'm not sure you do, or you wouldn't be so cavalier about being able to fix it! You have been <em> so </em> lucky, Owen. You have a wonderful wife, great kids. And here you are, telling me you were willing to throw it all away. For what?” </p><p>“You have no <em> idea </em> what you are talking about!” Owen insisted, heat rising in his cheeks.</p><p>Tomos’ eyes hardened. “I would have done <em> anything </em> to have more time with your mother. To have had that choice. But I wasn’t that lucky. You have it all, Owen. And you <em> still </em> don’t appreciate it.” </p><p>Owen’s stomach dropped through his feet. “Do not bring Mom into this! And don’t try to tell me I don’t appreciate my life, like I haven’t worked damned hard to earn everything I have. You certainly weren’t any help!” They were moving away from the issues at hand, but Owen couldn’t stop himself. The words had been held inside for too long. </p><p>“How dare you!” Tomos roared. “I did the best I could, raising you alone-- “</p><p>“I might as well have raised myself!” Owen yelled. “You could barely be bothered to pay any attention to me, much less actually do anything for me.” </p><p>“I was grieving!”</p><p>“I was <em> twelve</em>!” </p><p>They both fell silent, Owen breathing hard. Forcing himself to breathe more slowly, Owen continued. “After Mom died, I learned very quickly that I had to take care of myself. And I did. I worked hard to get where I am, to build this life.” Owen forced his shoulders to relax and took a breath. “Look, I’m not here to explain or to defend myself. I messed up. I know that.” He paused. “This is me asking my father for help.”</p><p>The anger faded from Tomos’ face. Finally he spoke again. “You know… you always have a place here to stay if that's what you need.”</p><p>Owen’s chest felt tight and he looked up at his father gratefully. “Thank you.”</p><p>Tomos sat down next to him and stared at his beer thoughtfully for a while. “What happened, Owen?”</p><p>Owen’s stomach clenched. “I don’t want to talk about it.” </p><p>Tomos looked up at his son. “Haven’t you already gotten past the hard part?”</p><p>“It’s complicated,” was Owen’s terse reply. </p><p>Tomos took another sip of beer. “Come now, how complicated can it be?”</p><p>“Trust me,” he rumbled. </p><p>“<em>Fine</em>,” Tomos bit out. </p><p>They continued to nurse their beers in silence for a while, but Owen began to fidget. He rubbed at the back of his neck again. He <em> wanted </em> to tell him, but it didn’t seem to be making it any easier to get the words out. </p><p>“Look, something happened.”</p><p>“The affair?”</p><p>Owen winced. “No. I mean <em> yes </em>, but that’s not actually what I’m talking about.” </p><p>Tomos sighed impatiently. “What are you trying to tell me, son?”</p><p>“Never mind.” Owen finished his beer and stood up, tossing it in the recycler. “I’m going to take a shower. I’ll see you in the morning.” </p><hr/><p>Owen’s sleep was restless that night, troubled by nightmares in which his wife played both the role of his torturer and a victim he could never save. She was laughing cruelly in his face. She was screaming in pain, crying out for him to save her. </p><p>But he never could. No matter what he did, eventually she always ended up face-down on the cold floor, unmoving, hair disheveled and limp with sweat. </p><p>When it was over, when he would finally reach her lifeless body, only too late, he would wake up, scream caught in his throat, and bolt upright. It always took a few moments to find his breath again, and longer to convince his panicking brain that none of it was real. </p><p>When he finally relaxed and laid back down, he would listen for his father, worried he’d cried out in his sleep and woken the older man. But he never heard anything, and eventually he would fall back into a fitful sleep. </p><p>He must have fallen into a deeper sleep eventually, because when he finally woke up for good, it was later in the morning than he expected. He was almost painfully groggy, but relieved to start a new day, away from the nightmares that plagued his sleep. He dressed quickly, in one of the two outfits he’d packed in the small overnight bag he’d brought with him, and made his way to the kitchen. The thought of coffee and sausages and the prospect of an extended stretch of hours without being haunted by images of his torment made him almost cheerful. His father probably had some yard work he could help with. Something to keep his mind and his hands busy. </p><p>When he stepped into the kitchen, he was surprised to see his father sitting at the small table, staring somberly down at his almost full coffee cup. He felt a moment of guilt for the words they'd exchanged the night before. “Look, Dad,” Owen began, “I'm sorry about last night. I was… feeling frustrated. And defensive. It was a long time ago. It doesn't matter now.”</p><p>Tomos looked up from his coffee, fingers drumming nervously on the table. He was silent for a moment. “Do… do you want to talk about it?”</p><p>Owen poured himself a cup of coffee and sighed internally. <em> Not really</em>. “It's fine. I'm sorry. Let's just move on.” </p><p>“No, not that, son.”</p><p>Owen hid his sigh in a sip of coffee. “No, I don't really want to talk about cheating on my wife either,” he muttered bitterly.   </p><p>“I… I meant about the Cardassians.”</p><p>Owen’s mug crashed to the ground, shattering into pieces and splashing hot coffee all over his feet and pants. He cursed under his breath and bent down to pick up the shattered chunks of ceramic that littered the floor. </p><p>“Here, let me help you,” Tomos said as he climbed out of his chair. </p><p>“I'm fine!” Owen burst out angrily, making his father recoil. Owen swallowed guiltily and took a breath. “I'm fine,” he repeated in a more measured voice. “I've got it.” After he tossed the pieces of the broken mug into the recycler and wiped up the coffee, he poured himself another cup and found himself avoiding his father’s eyes. </p><p>“Owen… “ Tomos began. </p><p>“Look, I don't-- I don’t know what you're talking about,” Owen insisted. </p><p>“For christ’s sake, Owen, I heard you in your sleep! I mean, it didn’t make any bloody sense. But it was enough to worry me. I called Julia, and she told me what happened.” </p><p>Owen’s chest was tight, panic welling up inside him. He felt cornered. “I’m fine. It’s fine.” </p><p>“For god's sake, Owen, there is no way that’s true!” </p><p>Owen’s mouth worked but he didn’t say anything, and Tomos continued. </p><p>“I know how much you hate needing any help. And I recognize how difficult it must be for you to even be here right now. But you need to hear this before you do anything else stupid.” Owen didn't say anything, blinking dumbly, still too surprised to get out words. Tomos nodded in satisfaction and continued. “I don't know exactly what happened to you, Owen. Whatever they did to you… “ He trailed off and for a moment Owen thought he wasn't going to be able to finish, but Tomos pulled himself together.  “I can never understand what you went through. And it breaks my heart.” His father’s voice cracked a little and Owen swallowed uncomfortably. “But it's obvious that this is beyond anything I can help you with. Or that you can deal with on your own. You <em> need </em> to talk to someone about this, Owen. A doctor.” </p><p>Owen let out a breath. “I know. I <em> know </em> that, I just… “</p><p>“Because it's too important. You need help.”</p><p>“I know.” Owen’s gaze returned to the floor. </p><p>“Have you talked to Julia about it?”</p><p>“Yeah. Some.”</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>“She… she knows, obviously, but she-- she said she can't help me. Because… “ All of the pain flooded through him suddenly and Owen had to blink back tears. </p><p>“Because of what you did,” Tomos finished. </p><p>“Yeah.” Owen’s voice sounded dead and flat. Defeated. </p><p>Tomos clapped a hand on his shoulder and Owen began to blink rapidly. “It's going to be okay, Owen. But not alone. Promise me, you’ll get help.”</p><p>Owen nodded. </p><hr/><p>Owen made an appointment through Starfleet Medical to talk to a counselor. He’d start seeing her following week. Things were easier between Owen and Tomos after that. Tomos seemed content to know that a professional would be taking over and so they didn’t talk further about what had happened. And if his father heard his nightmares, he didn’t say anything about it. </p><p>Owen spent the rest of the week at his father’s house in relative calm, splitting his time between yard work, some home maintenance projects his father had been putting off, and long, introspective walks. </p><p>Owen missed his wife desperately, but being in Aberystwyth was relaxing in a way he'd desperately needed. When he packed up his things and bid his father goodbye, Owen had the distinct feeling of stepping into a new stage of his life. </p><p>He just wished he knew what that stage was.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time Owen saw Julia again in person after she’d kicked him out, he’d been so nervous he thought he was going to throw up. He didn’t think he’d <em> ever </em>been so nervous, not even in the Academy or when he’d gotten his first command. There was a certain calm that came with training and preparation, that focused the stress, gave it a direction, a path to success and as long as Owen had that path, he could understand it, control it.</p><p>There was no training for this. </p><p>It didn't help that he hadn’t known what to expect from his wife. They’d been in contact, a mix of heated exchanges about his failings and cool missives about practical matters, mostly messages about Tom or planning this very meeting. They’d agreed that if they were going to work through things, they needed to keep some small piece of their relationship going as normally as possible. A reprieve from everything else. A moment to be together amidst the chaos and uncertainty. So they’d decided that while Owen was on Mars, he would come back once a week for a date with his wife, with no discussion of what happened. But this was the first one, and Owen didn't know if it would actually work. </p><p>The first meeting was just coffee, at Julia’s favorite coffee shop near her office. It was Owen’s suggestion, partially made because he thought she would be comfortable there, and partially because the thought of seeing his wife at the coffee shop near their home in Pacific Heights, where he’d last seen Kathryn, put his stomach into knots. </p><p>Owen sat at a secluded table in the back, surrounded by a mix of college students, graduate assistants, professors, and staff, all equally uninterested in his presence.  His tea remained untouched. </p><p>He didn’t realize how afraid he was that she wouldn’t even show up until he saw her pushing through the doorway. Relief flooded through him, untangling and retangling the knots in his stomach as it went, replacing the fear she wouldn’t come with a new, fresh fear that she was here to tell him she didn’t want to fix things, that it was already over before it had begun. </p><p>As she approached, he stood up abruptly, knocking his legs against the small table and sloshing his tea. He barely noticed. </p><p>She gave him a hesitant smile and Owen realized he’d been holding his breath. “He--hello,” he forced out, sitting back down before his legs gave out.</p><p>Julia sat down across from him, setting her bag over the back on her chair and placing her coffee, which he noticed was in a ceramic mug, not a to-go cup, on the table. </p><p>“Hi, Owen. It’s good to see you.” </p><p>Owen smiled. </p><hr/><p>After the first meeting, Owen had felt positively joyous. The relief he felt was overwhelming. Julia had come, and even better, she had seemed open to making things work. Not that they’d discussed their relationship, but the point of these meetings was to maintain and heal their relationship, and she’d participated fully. They’d made small talk. She talked about her students and the progress she’d made on her book. He’d talked about his new job. It was awkward, but that was to be expected. All that mattered was that he had a path again. </p><p>When they’d said goodbye, Julia had even broken the rules in a way that he thought surely indicated her concern and love. She hesitated as she shouldered the strap to her bag, readjusting it more than strictly necessary. “Owen… have you-- have you talked to… someone? About… your, um, mission?” </p><p>The question caught him off guard for a moment, but he recovered quickly. “Yes. I have a counselor I started seeing.”</p><p>Julia gave him a small smile. “I’m glad. Is it helping?”</p><p>It was much too early to make such a statement, as he'd only seen her twice so far, but Owen nodded. “Yes. Yes, I think so.” </p><p>Julia’s smile widened, and she looked a little tearful as she nodded. “I’m glad.” Then, suddenly and unexpectedly, she hugged him. Owen hugged her back warmly, happier than he’d ever been over such a small gesture. He didn’t want to let go, but he followed her lead, pulling back as soon as he felt her doing the same. </p><p>“I’ll see you next week, then.” </p><p>Owen had nodded. “Next week.” </p><p>After that, he’d been more lighthearted than he’d been in months. He could finally imagine an end to his current strife. He had a path, and at the end of it, he saw his wife smiling at him, arms open, radiant as she had been on their wedding day.  </p><p>It would all be okay. </p><p>But their next meeting, a walk along the Presidio, and the next, breakfast at a cafe Owen liked, and the one after that, back at the coffee shop, squeezed between Julia’s lectures, came and went with dwindling optimism. Everything had looked so bright and full of possibility and hope. Since then, things hadn't been <em> bad</em>, they'd just remained… the same. </p><p>Stalled. </p><p>Every time he saw her, he left feeling more despondent than the last. When she bid him goodbye after their fifth such meeting, another walk, this time around Pacific Heights (Julia had complained about sitting in her office and was desperate for some exercise), he couldn't take it anymore. </p><p>“Julia-- “ he began, without knowing where he was going. “I… Can we talk? <em> Really </em> talk?” </p><p>“Of course.” He stared at her, waiting for more, and she stared back. “Oh, you mean <em> now</em>?”</p><p>“I--” Owen started, “Yes. I'm here now.”</p><p>Julia frowned. She was quiet for a long moment. “Well I can't do it now. I've got dinner plans with Charlotte Day. I guess it's going to be late by the time I'm done,” she said resignedly. “How about you stay at home tonight? We can talk after Tom is asleep.”</p><p>Owen nodded, trying to keep the excitement suddenly bursting within him in check. This would be the first night at home with his wife in more than a month. <em> Maybe progress was being made after all. </em> </p><hr/><p>Owen was cheerful as he entered their home, whistling to himself as he ran through the conversation he wanted to have with his wife when she returned, over and over again in his head. He went to the kitchen, thinking about replicating a sandwich. Or maybe Julia’s parents had been by and left something homemade in stasis. Replicated dinner by himself was something he'd had a lot of recently, and he did not find it particularly appealing. </p><p>Heavy footfalls thudding down the stairs behind him made him spin in surprise. Tom was halfway down the stairs, and when he saw his father, he suddenly straightened and slowed. “Hey.”</p><p>“Hi, Tom. It-it’s been a while, how's school?”</p><p>Tom made a face. “Fine,” he murmured, brushing past his father to the replicator. </p><p>“Do- do you need some dinner? I was just--”</p><p>“I'm just going to get some pizza and go back to my room.” Tom didn’t make eye contact with his father. It was impossible to miss his son’s animosity, but harder to tell the source. The usual teenaged mood swings? Anger that he’d been gone? Or had Tom figured out what happened? He and Julia hadn’t told him about what happened, or about the separation, but while his son lacked focus and ambition, he suffered no lack of intelligence. Maybe he’d figured it out. </p><p>Not for the first time, Owen wondered if it had been the right decision to keep what happened from Tom. But he didn’t agonize long. <em> One thing at a time</em>. When Tom ran back upstairs, plate of pizza in his arms, Owen called up after him, “If you need anything, I’ll be in my office.”</p><p>Tom didn’t respond. </p><hr/><p>It felt good to be back in his own home, to be back in his own office. Owen answered some work messages on his terminal and was scrolling through the news feeds when he heard the door. Smiling, he got up and went to find his wife. </p><p>Julia was hanging her jacket by the door when he found her. </p><p>When she saw him, she jumped, hand flying to her chest. “Sorry,” she murmured, shaking herself. “I’m not used to you being here.” </p><p>“It’s okay,” Owen replied automatically. </p><p>“How’s Tom?” Julia asked, brushing by him and moving into the house. </p><p>“Fine. He’s in his room.”</p><p>Julia nodded and Owen followed her to the living room. Owen hovered by the edge of the room as Julia began to pace. “I… I know I said we could talk. But I don’t know if I’m ready.”</p><p>Owen opened his mouth to respond, but Julia continued. </p><p>“It’s getting better, it really is. Getting <em> easier</em>. Sometimes I can even look at you and not see <em> her</em>.” She paused but continued pacing. “I’m really glad that you are seeing a counselor. I really, truly hope that helps. I just don’t know if I’m ready yet. I’m sorry. I… I think you should go.” </p><p>Owen waited patiently until she was done, then his frustration boiled over. “How long is it going to take, Julia? I’ve done everything I can. Everything you’ve asked! What else am I supposed to do?”</p><p>“Hush!” Julia hissed at him. “Tom is upstairs!”</p><p>Owen swallowed, mouth working and trying to modulate his voice. “What else am I supposed to do, Julia? I miss you. So much.” His shoulders sagged pitifully and Julia looked like she was trying not to cry. </p><p>She shook her head and blinked, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. “I don’t know.  But I’m not ready to forgive you yet.” Then she turned and left, padding quietly upstairs and leaving Owen alone. </p><p>Owen sat down on the sofa, head in his hands. The frustration was gone as fast as it had appeared, replaced by a deep hopelessness that seeped into his bones. “I don’t know either,” he whispered to himself. </p><p>For the first time, Owen Paris began to accept that his marriage might truly be over.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nothing much changed after that, at least on the surface. They fell back into their routine - meeting once a week and discussing Tom and the girls via subspace. But even if everything looked the same, Owen felt different. Being forced to accept the possibility that his marriage was over terrified him deeply. His moods swung wildly back and forth, vacillating between a furious drive to repair his broken marriage and a hollow, paralyzing grief. He got through the days by focusing on his work, but when he went home at night there was nothing to distract him. </p><p>His fear of pushing Julia away mostly kept him from acting on his impulses during his more manic days. But over time, they lessened. The inevitability of his relationship slowly crumbling away wore him down, and he began to inure himself to the pain. </p><p>He was surprised but pleased when Julia suggested the whole family go on their usual summer vacation to Lake Tahoe. He wasn’t sure if she’d suggested it because she truly wanted him there, or if it was simply too close to admitting publically that they were separated if he didn’t join her on vacation with the children. But at this point, it barely made a difference. Anything that kept them together, that kept things going a little longer, meant there was still a chance. It wasn’t much, but it was what he had. </p><p>Owen found, to his surprise, that having the whole family together was much easier than being with Julia one-on-one. His wife was astonishingly good at acting like everything was fine when the others were around, and it was wonderful to catch up with Kathleen and Moira. They were bursting with stories from school - Kathleen was thinking about medical school after she graduated and Moira wanted to study art abroad, maybe in China, or maybe Vulcan. Tom still seemed vaguely mad at Owen for unknown reasons, but even he was in reasonably good spirits, hanging out with his best friend Charlie, who had come along on Julia’s suggestion. They’d been friends for so long Charlie almost felt like family and it had turned out to be an excellent idea. </p><p>Owen was enjoying himself. It almost felt normal. </p><p>Then it happened. </p><p>Julia, Kathleen, and Moira were hiking and Owen had stayed behind to get some work done. He’d transported to San Francisco for the morning, and planned to return to the family’s cabin in the afternoon. Tom and Charlie were still asleep when he left. Owen guessed they’d stayed up too late playing hologames. Maybe they’d finally be up by the time he got back. </p><p>Owen rubbed his eyes and looked at the chronometer and realized with surprise that his planned couple of hours of work had doubled without him noticing. Since he hadn’t heard from Julia or Tom, he presumed they must be doing okay without him. Kathleen had told him they’d probably be out till the mid-afternoon. He should have a little more time before his absence became an issue. He decided to finish what he was doing, then he could return to the cabin. </p><p>Owen was pulling up the next message in his queue when a piercing tone jolted him upright at his desk, adrenaline pounding in his veins in a heartbeat. For a moment, conditioned by years of training, he thought of his ship. But he wasn’t on a ship. And the alert was wrong. It took him a moment to place it: the tone was one of the safety measures they’d set up for the family’s shuttle. </p><p>His stomach dropped through the floor. <em> My family is in danger</em>. But his brain struggled with the pieces.  There was no reason for the shuttle alarm to be going off; no one was supposed to be using the shuttle that day. Then it clicked. </p><p><em> Tom</em>. <em> No</em>. </p><p>All of the grieving he’d done for his marriage and for the future with his family he worried was lost forever sharpened into something so much more painful and immediate, ripping the wound of his grief open wide. </p><p>Owen pulled up the report created by the alert without even being aware his hands were moving. He skimmed the first line, searching desperately for reassurance. “Catastrophic planetary impact recorded at 1317 hours. Critical systems failure.” The wave of anguish was almost unbearable, but the need to find out what happened was greater. He moved on to the next line. “Automatic beam out initiated for two humanoid life forms. Life signs stable.” </p><p>Owen sucked in a breath, relief washing over him. He continued, looking for an explanation. He found the cause of the crash quickly enough, but it made no sense. </p><p>“Pilot control console system error recorded at 1315 hours. Complete reboot required.”</p><p>Owen blinked. The controls had failed, so Tom hadn’t been able to avoid a collision. <em> But there should have been time to reboot the console </em>… With any obvious answers, Owen switched gears, checking for confirmation that Tom and his friend Charlie were indeed still alive. An update came through, indicating that the Lake Tahoe-Nevada State Park Service had received the alert from the shuttle and had located two life signs, dispatching a shuttle to pick them up. Owen finally breathed a sigh of relief. </p><p>But with relief came anger. Something had put his family’s lives in danger. Had threatened to take away the thing he was fighting so hard to keep. The anger was directionless, with no cause to attribute blame. </p><p>The pieces of the puzzle continued to bounce around in the back of Owen’s head, turning over the problem of what had caused the crash. <em> There should have been time to reboot</em>. He’d watched his son do it many times before, endlessly preparing for any emergency or unexpected contingency. <em> Unless… </em> Owen blinked slowly, the oversight built into his assumptions suddenly painfully obvious. </p><p>He <em> should </em> have had enough time. Should have, unless Tom had been flying at a fraction of the required safe margin from landforms. Unless Tom had <em> deliberately </em> chosen a dangerous flight pattern. </p><p>There was no way for him to verify his suspicions. That would take a much more detailed analysis of the data to determine exactly where the shuttle had been in relation to the landforms when the console failure occurred. Owen couldn’t determine that just by reviewing the readout. </p><p>But Owen knew his son. And he knew exactly what had happened. </p><hr/><p>Julia’s communicator buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out to find a brief text from Owen: “Tom in shuttle crash, no casualties, returning to cabin now.”</p><p>For a moment she didn’t breathe. “Kathleen!” she yelled. “Moira!” Ahead of her, her daughters paused in their ascent of the mountain. “Tom was in an accident! I-- we have to go!”</p><p>Moira gasped. </p><p>“Is he okay?” Kathleen asked, panic tinging the edges of her words. </p><p>“I… I think so.” She took a breath, thinking. “There was a ranger station, just a little ways back. If we go there, they should be able to beam us back to the cabin.” </p><p>Kathleen and Moira nodded and the three hurried to the station. Julia was flushed and out of breath when they arrived, hair damp with perspiration. She ran to the desk inside. “My son was in an accident. Can we get an emergency beam out? I need to get home as soon as possible.” </p><p>The two rangers behind the desk looked at each other then back at Julia. “What kind of accident?” asked the one on the left. </p><p>Julia frowned. “My husband just messaged me. He said Tom was in a shuttle accident. That’s all I know.”</p><p>The one on the right cleared his throat. “There was a shuttle crash about fifteen minutes ago. Two teenaged boys.” Then he hurried to add, “They are both okay! The shuttle crashed in the lake.” </p><p>“The what?!” Julia paled. </p><p>“Holy shit,” Moira whispered behind her. </p><p>“Well, the shuttle has not been recovered,” Left Ranger continued. “As he said,” gesturing to his partner, “both boys are safe. One of the Park Service shuttles just dropped them off at home.” </p><p>All of Julia’s urgency returned.  She nodded. “Okay. Good. I need-- I need to get back there. Can we get an emergency beam out?” </p><p>The one on the right nodded quickly. “Of course. We’ve got a pad in the back.”</p><p>Julia, Kathleen, and Moira followed them back and Julia gave them the coordinates to the cabin. When they rematerialized, it was to the sound of distant shouting. </p><p>“What the--” Kathleen muttered. </p><p>The transporter pad was on the back porch, and Julia rushed through the family’s large cabin, following the sounds of Owen’s raised voice. She rushed past Charlie in the entryway to find her son and husband on the front porch. Tom was hunched forward, staring at his feet, proverbial tail between his legs. Owen’s voice was raised in anger and Tom winced as his father’s words hit him. Julia ignored Owen and rushed in,  pulling Tom into a tight embrace. </p><p>“Tom! Tom, are you okay?” she asked, panic evident in her voice. She pulled back, taking Tom’s face in her hands. “Oh god, I was so worried.” </p><p>Behind her, Owen fell silent. “I’m okay, Mom,” Tom mumbled, and she pulled him back into a hug. He hugged her back awkwardly. For a moment, all Julia felt was the relief of knowing her son was safe in her arms. </p><p>“Come on,” she murmured, leading him in, pausing just for a moment to give Owen a hard glare. He had the decency to look abashed. “Let’s get you inside.” </p><p>They rejoined Charlie and Julia gave him a hug too. “I’m so glad you both are okay,” she murmured into Charlie’s brown curls. She took a breath and pulled back, putting a hand on each of their shoulders. “I’m so disappointed,” she said, shaking her head. “Taking the shuttle by yourself? Without permission? I expect better judgment. From both of you.” She sighed. “I was so scared when I heard there’d been a crash. Please, Tom, don’t do that to me again?”</p><p>Tom looked abashed but gave her a little smile. “Sorry, Mom. I promise.”</p><p>“Good.” She hugged Tom again. “I’m so glad you are okay.” She pulled back and gave him a look. “You know you are grounded until you’re eighteen right?” Tom rolled his eyes and groaned, but didn’t argue with her. He knew how bad he’d fucked up. “Come on,” she said, turning to Charlie. “Let’s go call your moms. I think they need to come pick you up.” Charlie nodded. He didn’t try to argue either. </p><p>The boys sat quietly on the couch in the living room while Julia called Charlotte. She was careful to assure her that Charlie was completely safe and unharmed before explaining the crash. She agreed it was best that Charlie came home and assured Julia she’d be there immediately. </p><p>After Charlie was picked up, Tom stomped off to his room, and Julia found her husband in the den. </p><p>“What the fuck was that, Owen?” she snapped at him. </p><p>Upstairs, Tom’s door slammed and for a moment they both fell silent. “Julia!” Owen hissed. </p><p>“I don’t care if he hears me, Owen. You were out of line! He could have died! Why the hell were you yelling at him?” </p><p>His eyebrows furrowed angrily. “He stole the shuttle and he nearly got himself -- and Charlie -- killed! It was reckless and stupid.” </p><p>“It was an accident!” she hissed. </p><p>“He was flying dangerously, and if he hadn’t been this never would have happened. Not to mention, that none of this would have happened if he hadn’t stolen the shuttle in the first place!”</p><p>“No, you <em> already </em> mentioned that,” she retorted bitterly. </p><p>Owen shook his head. “I’m not going to ignore his bad judgment just because he nearly got hurt. He’s nearly an adult! He did something stupid and he nearly got people killed.”</p><p>“<em>He </em> nearly got killed. Don’t you think that’s its own consequence? He’s not <em> stupid</em>, Owen. He’s completely freaked out right now and you don’t need to add to that. He can learn from this.” </p><p>Owen shook his head. “He’s going to be in the Academy soon. He can’t make mistakes like this. He has to learn some responsibility somehow!”</p><p>“He’s your son, Owen! Not a cadet! Do you even care that he nearly died at the bottom of the lake?”</p><p>“Of course I do!” The panic in his eyes was unmistakable. “I’m just trying to keep my family safe! I can’t let his stupidity and short sighted thinking destroy my family, Julia!”</p><p>“No, because you’re doing a great job of that by yourself, aren’t you?” she bit out. It was mean and it wasn’t relevant to their argument. She regretted it as soon as it was out of her mouth. </p><p>Her words hit him like a physical blow and she watched as he reeled from the impact before pulling himself back together. “Goddammit, Julia! Don’t you understand?” He paused, voice suddenly dropping, each word deliberate. “I made the biggest mistake of my life. I put the thing I cared most about at risk. I may have lost everything. But I don’t know. Because it’s not in my hands anymore.” He paused. “I just don’t want Tom to make a mistake he can’t undo. Because I did. And I don’t want him to ever feel like I do.” </p><p>Owen looked down, suddenly self-conscious. Julia’s mouth worked before a moment before she spoke. “Oh, Owen.” Her lip curled up sadly and she pulled Owen into a hug. Surprised, Owen responded, wrapping his arms gently around her. As they held each other, it occurred to her how long it had been since they’d touched like this. </p><p>Julia didn’t let go for a long time, head resting against his chest. </p><p>“I miss you,” she whispered. “I do. I miss you so much. I guess I don’t know if you realize that. But I do.” She pulled back enough to look up at him. “I’m mad at you. All the time.” She gave a little laugh. “But I still miss you.” </p><p>Owen looked like he was struggling to keep himself together. “I miss you so much, Julia.”</p><p>“I know,” she agreed. She gave him a small smile then curled back into him. “I don’t know what we are supposed to do next,” she whispered. “But… I know I don’t want to lose you.” She hoped he understood what she was trying to say. She didn’t move, arms still around him, waiting for his response. </p><p>“Really?” he whispered hesitantly, voice on the verge of cracking. </p><p>She nodded. “Yes. I--I don’t know where to go from here. But yes.”</p><p>Owen hugged her tightly. “I don’t know either.”</p><p>Julia huffed against his chest. “Well, I guess that’s one thing we can agree on.” </p><p>Owen laughed at that, and her heart swelled a little bit. </p><p>The two pulled apart as footsteps approached and they looked up to see their daughters hovering nervously at the edge of the room. “So, are you guys done fighting now?” Moira asked. </p><p>Owen choked out a cough and Julia raised an eyebrow. “Yes.”</p><p>“Okay, good. Because we were wondering if we could take the boat out?”</p><p>“Go ahead. Tom is grounded for the time being,  but you can go.”</p><p>Moira nodded. “Thanks, Mom.” </p><p>When they were gone, Julia sighed. She reached for Owen’s hand and gave him a squeeze. “Tonight we should talk. Really talk. About us.” </p><p>Owen nodded. </p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sofa in the bedroom pulled out into a spare bed, and that was where Owen had been sleeping since they’d been at the cabin. It wasn’t something they’d discussed. Each night, she’d watched as he pulled it out and made the bed, and each morning, as he put it away. </p><p>It was actually a lot like how he’d dealt with everything since his mistake. He tolerated all the obstacles, and almost entirely without complaint. If she said leave, he left. If she said ‘I need time,’ he gave it to her. If she said ‘meet with me once a week on my terms,’ he did. There was no doubt that he was trying. That he had taken every possible step. </p><p>But their relationship wasn’t an equation to be solved. Two plus two may always equal four, but even <em> apology </em> plus <em> forgiveness </em> did not always equal <em> love</em>. It also doesn’t make the pain go away. And that was assuming she’d truly forgiven him, which was complicated and a question even she did not know the answer to. Ultimately, she had to make a conscious decision of whether she wanted to rebuild her life with a man that had betrayed her. It wasn’t a question of whether he deserved it or not. Because he didn’t, really. If she were to decide it wasn’t worth it, that he’d hurt her too deeply, she would be justified in doing so. </p><p>But even if he didn’t deserve it, even if she didn’t owe him a thing, she did love him. She’d built a life with him, raised a family with him. And he’d certainly proven that he was willing to put the work in. So it was up to her to make the difficult decision of whether or not to give him that second chance. </p><p>And dammit, she missed him. </p><p>That night when Owen came out of the bathroom, ready for bed and heading towards the sofa, Julia was already in bed, reclining with a book. She hadn’t been reading it so much as fiddling with it and she beckoned him towards her. She set her PADD down on the nightstand and nervously adjusted her robe. Owen sat down on the bed next to her, but didn’t get under the covers. </p><p> “This all started,” she began, “because you weren’t able to open up to me about what you were going through. I think, if we are going to fix this, we need to start over. I need you to go back and tell me everything.”</p><p>Owen’s eyebrows furrowed, his eyes flashing with momentary panic, but he nodded. “Okay.” He took a deep breath. “<em>Okay</em>.” Then he began. </p><p>“We… were on a tactical mission. Near Cardassian space… ” He told her everything and when he got to his capture by the Cardassians, Julia took his hand in hers, and he seemed encouraged by her touch. When he got to his torture, she squeezed his hand and he squeezed back. </p><p>She surprised herself by interrupting him. “Can I see it?” she asked. </p><p>Owen frowned. “What?”</p><p>“Where they… put the -- the implant.” </p><p>Owen blinked. Hesitated. “I… sure.” He pulled his undershirt off and Julia reached forward hesitantly until her fingers hovered over his collarbone. </p><p>“Can I?” she whispered. </p><p>Owen nodded. She ran her fingers over the thin, pale scar, palm resting lightly on his chest. The scar had faded somewhat over time; she remembered seeing it angry and red when he’d first come home. “Does it hurt?”</p><p>“No.” He shook his head. “Not anymore.” </p><p>Julia nodded. Owen reached up, hand closing around hers and taking her hands into his lap. He stared down at their hands silently for some time. When he finally continued, Julia leaned in against his side, hands still entwined in his lap, trying to offer him silent encouragement. His words were hesitant, uncertain, as he described the panic attacks. The flashbacks. The dreams. She let him take his time, not interrupting or prompting, just giving him an encouraging squeeze when he seemed to need it. When he fell silent, she waited for several long moments to make sure he was done before she spoke. </p><p>“Do you still get them? The panic attacks?”</p><p>“Yes,” he admitted. “Less though. It’s been getting better.”</p><p>“I’m… I’m glad.” </p><p>Julia shifted to lay down on her side on the bed, and she pulled Owen down with her. It was a more intimate act than they’d engaged in in months. He let himself be led and she faced him, hands clasped together between them. She kissed him gently on the forehead and when she pulled back, he was blinking. </p><p>Julia pressed her forehead against Owen’s and closed her eyes, reaching for him, hands clutching his upper arms as she began to speak. “I thought I knew what I was getting into when we got married. I practically grew up at the Academy. I was raised on stories about the heroic deeds of my family. My great-grandfather, who died in battle with the Klingons. My great-grandmother, who fought in the war but who lived to see peace. My great-uncle, who… well, I don’t remember what he did. But… I grew up in a time of peace. And my parents had me late in life. Their years on starships were long over by the time they had me. I didn’t grow up on the frontier, I grew up in San Francisco. My father was a doctor and a researcher. My mother was essentially a college administrator.” She laughed a little, then opened her eyes and tilted her head so she could look at him. Julia smiled weakly. “I know I’m rambling. You know all this. But… I don’t think I did. Not what it <em> meant</em>. It’s… easy to think peace will last when you are in it.” She shook her head. “I know it was foolish to think you would never be in harm’s way. Sometimes I just wonder, if I’d truly understood the risks, would I have been better prepared? Would I have responded differently?” She shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. I was just so scared and I didn’t know what to do.” </p><p>“I know. Me too.” </p><p>Julia let out a small sob, clutching him tighter, and suddenly the dam holding in Owen’s emotions finally collapsed under her hands. Tears leaked from his eyes and he pulled Julia into his arms. They clung to each other tightly, sobbing together, emotions that had been held tightly under wraps for months bursting free. </p><p>Between sobs, Owen cried “I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry,” over and over again into her hair. </p><p>His words were a balm on her heart. As the sobs subsided, Julia relaxed into his arms, finding contentment there for the first time in what felt like forever, fingers idly caressing his sides. It had been ages since they’d touched like this, but every inch of him was still so familiar. She curled easily into him, cheek resting against the broad planes of his chest. </p><p>She was suddenly starved for his touch, hungry not only for the warm contentment she found in his arms, but for something more. She wanted <em> more</em>, she wanted <em> closer</em>. She wanted something that could only be expressed through the pressure of his skin pressed against hers. She slid her fingers down his chest and up his back, her nails scraping over his shoulder blades, making him shiver. Owen leaned in a little closer, experimenting with this newfound intimacy, and her mouth hesitantly found his. Her body flooded with warmth as they kissed, hesitation evaporating quickly, and he kissed her desperately, hungrily. Julia gasped in surprise and returned the kiss in equal measure. She didn’t know how much she’d been craving this, how much she needed this, until his hands were on her body, holding her close, and she slid a hand around his neck, fingers ruffling the short hairs at the nape of his neck as they kissed. His body reacted quickly to her touch, and when she pressed her thigh between his, she felt his impatient erection digging into her leg.</p><p>Julia gasped in surprise, suddenly a little light headed, and she reached tentatively to grasp her husband through his clothes. Owen shuddered and his eyes fell closed. She bit down on her lip as she stroked him, watching him respond in the twitches of muscle in his cheek, the hitch of his breath.  Then Owen rolled on top of her and the warmth in her chest moved downward. He kissed his way down her neck, erection pressing into the hollow of her hip. He slid her robe off her shoulder, his light touch making her shiver, and he kissed down the curve of her shoulder to her collarbone. </p><p>The muscles of Owen’s back rippled under her fingers. “<em>Owen</em>,” she breathed. </p><p>“I’ve missed you so much,“ he whispered, kissing behind her ear. His voice was a low rumble, a signal of his desire as clear as the erection. He raised himself up just enough to kiss her on the mouth, one hand sliding down her side and back up under her robe, gently pushing the offending garment further out of the way. Julia reveled in his touch even as she wondered if he’d sounded like that when he was with Kathryn. She frowned at the intrusive thought, and tried to push it away, focusing consciously on Owen. The way his fingers tickled over the swell of her hip, the feeling of his hot breath on her neck. But each time, it was followed by a corresponding vision of Owen’s hands on another woman’s body. Of his breath on <em> her </em> neck. His voice, rough with desire, moaning her name.</p><p>“Julia,” he groaned. </p><p><em> Kathryn</em>. </p><p>Julia felt like she was going to pass out, Owen’s weight on top of her suddenly oppressive, and, as quickly as it began, it was over, the moment lost, reality crashing violently down around her. She pushed him off and rolled away, sitting up on the edge of the bed and adjusting her robe. She ran a trembling hand through her hair and sniffled. “I’m sorry,” she said, unable to look at him. <em> I’m not ready, </em>she thought, but the words died in her throat. “I’m sorry.” Then she fled to the bathroom. </p><p>“Wait, Julia, it’s okay!” Owen insisted, voice trailing behind her. </p><p>In the bathroom, Julia stared at her reflection, long braid mussed, robe askew, eyes red and shining. She gripped the counter hard, trying desperately to calm her breathing. A sob escaped her mouth, and she pulled the robe forcibly from her body and retreated to the shower, turning the water up as high as she could stand. In the bottom of the shower she sat and sobbed as the water fell around her. </p><p>When she was spent and could cry no longer, she turned off the water and toweled off, squeezing the water from her hair. When she returned to the bedroom, it was silent, and Owen was on the pull-out sofa, not moving. Julia crawled back into bed, their bed, the bed that they had shared on countless prior family vacations, pulling the covers up over her shoulder and trying with limited success to get comfortable. She turned onto her side, facing away from Owen. Behind her, she heard his soft voice. </p><p>“Goodnight, Julia.”</p><p>Julia had to suppress a sob. She was silent for a long moment. “Goodnight,” she whispered back.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Owen got up early, showered quietly, and left the bedroom before Julia woke up. The thought of Julia crying alone in the bathroom haunted him all night. He’d agonized over whether to go to her. He wanted to fix things, to comfort her. But if she wanted his comfort, she’d have stayed. <em> Wouldn’t she? </em> He had barely slept. </p>
<p>Just when things had finally been going well, when progress was finally being made, it felt like they were back to square one. Maybe Julia was right. Maybe there was no way to forget something like this. </p>
<p>The whole cabin was all but silent, nothing but the soft hum of the air-recycling system, the rest of his family busy sleeping the morning away in their rooms.  It was hard to predict when the kids would get up. They were certainly capable of rising at a reasonable hour when they were motivated, but it was vacation and young people liked to sleep in, so he wasn’t expecting them soon. </p>
<p>The kitchen didn’t have the modern conveniences that their home in San Francisco had; it had only the most limited replicator technology. But Owen didn’t mind cooking, especially when they were on vacation and he had the time to enjoy it. Maybe the smells of breakfast would rouse some of them. He was just getting started in the kitchen, coffee brewing, heating the skillet, and exploring the cupboards to see what exactly they had, when someone else came in. </p>
<p>Julia stood on the other side of the counter. “Good morning,” she murmured. </p>
<p>Owen gave her a cautious smile. “Good morning.”</p>
<p>She returned the smile, and to his surprise, came around to stand next to him. She took his hand in hers, fingers threading through his and squeezing. She smiled again. “Need any help?”</p>
<p>“Sure.” He was surprised and a little confused by her warmth, but wasn’t going to refuse such an opportunity. “Do we still have those vegetables Kathleen got at the farmers’ market? I thought they might be good in an omelet.” </p>
<p>Next to him, Julia shook her head. “No, we finished them off last night. We’ve still got some strawberries though.” </p>
<p>They fell into a comfortable rhythm, their many years of partnership providing a deep well of experience to draw from. When Owen reached for a spatula that wasn’t there, because it wasn’t in the same place it was at home, Julia knew what he was looking for and passed him a spatula without asking. When Julia was scanning cupboards unsuccessfully, Owen knew she was looking for sugar to put on her strawberries (an unnecessary topping in Owen’s mind), and he passed her the sugar. She smiled at him in thanks, nose crinkling a little, mouth curling in his direction, and Owen felt a burst of warmth in his chest. </p>
<p>Moira came downstairs first, as Owen was flipping Julia’s omelette. Julia sat on a stool at the counter, sipping coffee and snacking on sugared strawberries. </p>
<p>“G’morning,” Moira murmured sleepily, heading for the coffee. After she filled her mug, she started to walk upstairs, but Julia stopped her. “No, stay! Your dad is making breakfast.” </p>
<p>Moira grunted, and Owen imagined she was rolling her eyes. But their daughter acquiesced, moving to sit next to her mother. “Okay, but I want to spend some time on my art this morning.” She launched into an explanation about the advantages of the angle of the light in midmorning and upstairs they heard Tom and Kathleen bickering over the bathroom. </p>
<p>Owen looked up over the eggs at his wife as Moira continued, giving Julia a questioning look. She waved him off, but when Moira was finished, she stood up and moved around the counter. She leaned in towards Owen as she refilled her coffee. “I’m building new memories.” </p>
<p>Owen blinked. Julia sat back down and Owen stared into space, a sudden flood of emotion washing over him. It was almost overwhelming. He blinked to dispel the tears welling in his eyes, collecting himself as quickly as he could. </p>
<p>Tom was coming downstairs now. Julia was saying something to him, but Owen had missed it. Their son sat down next to Moira, craning his neck to see what Owen was doing. “Smells good, what’s cooking?”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Owen was exhausted by the end of the day. After breakfast they’d gone out to the lake for some sailing. Tom was a little moody, but that was probably to be expected, considering. In the afternoon, Owen and Julia had left the kids in the water to go to the farmers market together to pick up ingredients for dinner. Julia was affectionate, holding his hand in hers as they walked along the vendors’ stalls. There were some awkward moments, but when she smiled at him, he got butterflies. It was like they were young again, falling in love again for the first time. </p>
<p>After dinner, the kids camped out in the living room with a movie, and Owen, heart full but energy empty, told his family he was going to bed. To his surprise, Julia followed. </p>
<p>“It was a good day,” Owen said as he got undressed. </p>
<p>“It was,” Julia agreed. “I’m still a little worried about Tom. He’s been in a mood since the accident. Which isn’t surprising. I just can’t quite tell if he’s okay.”</p>
<p>Owen waved her off. “He’ll be fine.”</p>
<p>Julia nodded. “I hope you are right.” She paused for a moment. “I… we haven’t really gotten to actually talk today. Not properly. I just wanted you to know.” She sat down on the edge of the bed, and Owen sat down next to her. When she reached for his hand, he gladly took it. “I know it’s going to be hard. And sometimes it’s going to be uncomfortable. But… I mean it. I want to replace the bad memories. With good ones. I think… that’s the only way to move past this.” The hope rising in his chest was almost overwhelming and it was hard to talk. Julia continued. “When I kiss you, I don’t want to think of her. I want to think of us.” Then she leaned in and kissed him. </p>
<p>The kiss was gentle but not hesitant. Owen leaned in and kissed her back, hand cupping her face tenderly. The kiss was slow and exploratory. Deliberate. When Owen was finally out of breath, he pulled back. Julia followed, leaning back in, nose brushing his, mouth reaching for him. </p>
<p>Owen hesitated and placed his hand on her shoulder, creating distance. “Julia, are-- are you sure? Do you… “</p>
<p>Julia sat back at his touch. “It’s okay. I want this.” </p>
<p>Owen nodded. “Okay.” He leaned in this time, lips pressing gently against hers. Her lips were warm and soft and she sighed, mouth falling open a little in invitation. Despite her words, Owen was hesitant. He didn’t pull back, but he let Julia lead. He met her, kiss for kiss, touch for touch. There were a few moments where he felt her confusion, brief hesitations when he didn’t act the way she expected. But she quickly picked up on his cues and took the lead. </p>
<p>She deepened the kiss, mouth sliding against his, teeth tugging at his lip, and he felt the first stirring between his legs. Her hands were on his shirt and she fumbled with the buttons, so he helped, their fingers working together in unison. When it was off, she sat back. She seemed a little unsure of herself for a moment and Owen waited to see what she would do. He was about to suggest he return the favor, one hand drifting slowly up her back, when she stood up in front of him. </p>
<p>She took off her shoes first, toeing out of them and kicking them out of the way. Then she unzipped her dress and lifted it over her head before tossing it to the sofa. The leggings followed next and she stood before him in her underwear. He reached for her and she turned, pulling her hair out of the way so he could remove her bra. His fingers on her ribs made her shiver and he tossed the bra into the pile that was building up on the sofa. She pushed her panties down her hips and toed out of those as well. </p>
<p>He waited for her to reach for his pants before doing anything else, but those came next. He helped with the fasteners, but she pulled them from his body. </p>
<p>After they were both naked, he fought the impulse to immediately reach for her. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered. </p>
<p>She smiled softly at his words but didn’t respond, and she moved towards him. They both climbed into bed, sliding under the covers and facing one another. She scooted closer, hands sliding over his chest before leaning in for a kiss. One of her hands guided his between her legs, and he began to stroke her gently as they kissed. She gasped and sighed, the familiar noises of her pleasure rolling over him.</p>
<p>After a few minutes, she became quiet and her hand dug into his arm. He paused. “Julia? Are you okay?”</p>
<p>She blinked, eyes slowly focusing back on him. Then she nodded. “I’m fine. It’s just… “ she trailed off and tried to reposition his hand. “I don’t know, it’s not quite working.” </p>
<p>Owen pulled his hand away and kissed her. “Let’s try something else.” He nudged her gently onto her back, then crawled under the covers and spread her legs. </p>
<p>Owen rested on his forearms and hovered between her legs. “Do you want me to?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>He leaned forward, hands curled around her thighs, and Julia sighed in anticipation.  She gasped as he parted her lips with his tongue. He moved slowly and gently at first, afraid to push things too far or too fast. There was a moment when she tensed up, her soft sighs coming to an abrupt halt, her hand clenching around his. He paused. </p>
<p>“Are you okay?”</p>
<p>She was silent for a moment, taking very deliberate breaths in and out. She didn’t move. She forced out a long breath. “Yes,” she finally confirmed. “Keep going.” </p>
<p>He kissed his way back down her thigh, muscles gradually relaxing as he went. When he finally reached the glistening flesh between her legs, she sucked in a sharp breath and sighed. Her hand scrabbled for his and he let go of her thigh to hold her hand against her stomach. He could hear her breath coming faster and felt her body tremble and tense beneath him, but still he hesitated a little. Then she let go and took his head in her hand and pushed him against her, panting, “Owen, <em> please</em>!” </p>
<p>His fingers dug into her thigh, holding her tightly to him, flicking his tongue over her sensitive flesh as she writhed beneath him. “Owen! Fuck! <em> Oh! </em>” Then she was coming, legs reflexively tensing around him. “Owen!” she gasped. He lapped at her with broad slow strokes as she rode out the orgasm and when she was done, he crawled up next to her and took her in his arms. </p>
<p>It took several minutes for her breathing to return to normal. Owen didn’t mind; he curled around her and stroked her arm as she recovered. When she’d caught her breath, she turned towards him. “I… I don’t think I’m up for anything else.”</p>
<p>Owen found he couldn’t have cared less. “That’s okay. Can I hold you?”</p>
<p>Julia nodded sleepily. Within minutes, she was asleep in his arms. He followed soon after, content to be sleeping together again with his wife for the first time in months.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>January 21, 2374</em>
</p><p>Any other day the arrival of an EMH Mark One hologram that claimed to be sentient would have been the biggest news to hit Starfleet. But for Owen, and for the other families who’d lost loved ones when <em> Voyager </em> had disappeared, it simply couldn’t compete with the news that the hologram had brought with him. </p><p><em> Voyager </em> was still out there. </p><p>His son was alive. </p><p>Owen had spoken to the hologram himself, thanking him for making the risky journey to relay the message and assuring him that Starfleet would do everything they could to get the crew of the <em> Voyager </em> home. Plans were already in motion to send letters back and forth, and the earliest stages of a more expansive project to get <em> Voyager </em> home were already coalescing. </p><p>Of course, the news hadn’t been good for everyone. Some families had learned of <em> Voyager’s </em> miraculous survival, only to find out that their loved one hadn’t survived the journey. Owen himself was struggling to reconcile the reality that his son was still alive, but still so very far away. Sixty thousand light years. It boggled the mind. It would likely take years, decades, for Tom to return. It was likely that Owen would die before he would see his son home. </p><p>
  <em> Tom… </em>
</p><p>The thought of his son still put him in knots, though the cause had changed over the years. </p><p>After that long ago family vacation in Lake Tahoe, things had continued to improve with Julia. It was slow, but they were both committed. It was never quite the same; it never could be. But in some ways what they created by slow, hard work and determination was better. They came out of it stronger because they had worked so hard to make it happen. </p><p>
  <em> But Tom… </em>
</p><p>Tom had been the opposite. As his relationship with Julia had improved, his relationship with his son continued to deteriorate. The shuttle accident was only the first in a long line of questionable decisions Tom had made, and Owen had been so very afraid of his son making poor decisions. Every time, Owen came down harder, trying by sheer force of will to compel his son to make better choices. But Owen’s efforts only served to push his son away. </p><p>Now visions of the past assailed Owen, each one filling him with regret. </p><p>He saw Tom at his court martial. His son had been stone-faced at the sentencing, and Owen had been aghast at the lack of emotion over the deaths of his friends - deaths he had caused. Now all he saw was a scared child closing in on himself. </p><p>He saw Tom on trial for his involvement in the Maquis, watched as his son was shackled and taken to prison.  Tom had been dismissive and cocky at the time. Now, he saw how false the bravado was. </p><p>He’d stood by and he hadn’t intervened, hadn’t interfered in any way, hadn’t even spoken to him. At the time, it had felt necessary. Tom had made mistakes, had broken the law. And mistakes came with consequences. Owen wasn’t abandoning him, it was just another consequence. But it was all just an excuse, an excuse for Owen’s own fear. </p><p>It was his fear of making mistakes that had left his son with no support and no perspective. He could have taught his son how to own up to your mistakes and move forward. But he hadn’t. He had been too selfish. </p><p>Then he found out that Tom was gone. </p><p>He’d been in denial at first. When <em> Voyager </em> had first been reported missing, Owen hadn’t been worried.  The ship was on a tactical mission near the Badlands and there were a thousand reasons they could have lost contact. They would surely resurface. But time had passed, and the ship had never been found. No ship, no debris, no communications. Nothing. </p><p>When the ship was declared lost, he’d suddenly been forced to face the reality he’d been avoiding - his son was dead, and he was never coming back. </p><p>Since then, Owen had had a lot of time to reflect on his relationship with his son. To come to terms with his role in Tom’s mistakes. To his role in destroying their relationship. And he’d spent years regretting that he had lost the opportunity to mend the damage he had done. </p><p>He regretted not talking to Tom in the corridor after the court martial, instead watching from a distance as Julia, cheeks wet with tears, gave him a hug and whispered something into his ear before he turned abruptly and left. He regretted not going to Tom himself at Auckland, instead sending Kathryn in his place. For years he’d lived with that regret, believing his son was dead, and knowing there was nothing he could do to. He’d never reached out, never apologized, and he’d spent years wishing for nothing more than one last opportunity to see his son again. He wasn’t sure Tom would accept his apologies, but at least he could try. Sometimes that’s all there was. </p><p>But now… now he had the opportunity he never thought he would have. Tom was alive. And Owen was not going to miss his chance. </p><p>If Owen was going to make things up to his son, he was going to have to tell him everything. </p><p>With a deep breath, Owen picked up the PADD and began to compose a letter. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! I do have one more part planned, for Owen and Tom to finally hash things out after Voyager returns to the AQ. Hopefully it doesn't take as long to write as this one did. XD</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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